


Les Pensées Finales

by artemisaro



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Canon Era, Multi, On The Barricade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisaro/pseuds/artemisaro
Summary: June 5, 1832, Combeferre writes letters to his friends in case he doesn't get a chance to express his feelings to them before he dies.





	Les Pensées Finales

_If lost, please return to M. Combeferre_

_\---_

La liberté en toutes ses formes reste la plus importante.

\---

 

Mes Chers Amis, June 5, 1832

I am not confident that we will make it out of this alive. I want to believe that we will, but after one night the cost of life is too high already. I do not know what will happen to us when this barricade comes down - we will either be moving on towards a brighter future or we will be facing what lays beyond the boundaries of the known universe. Either way, I am happy to be standing with you all here as brothers. With any luck, you will not read these notes. With any luck, these notes will mean nothing, but my heart feels lighter knowing they are written. Knowing that if any of us die, there will be no words left unsaid. If I die here, please give these letters to those who they are addressed to.

So much has already happened; things we couldn’t foresee and are now incapable of changing. Life has already been lost and I cannot bring myself to leave out those of us who are already gone. Many of our families would not approve of what we are doing, but I hope they will understand. I hope they are proud that we stood up. I simply hope Paris will stand with us come morning. As of this moment, the evening of June 5th, our prospects are lower than I could have imagined. I must prepare for the worst, though it pains my heart to do so.

Should none of us survive, let these letters serve as a testament to the people we were. Let us not be forgotten by history or swept under the rug by the people who opposed us. This fight is people against people, and the biggest mistake we can make is to forget the humanity of our enemies. It saddens me that there was no other way to settle this, but I firmly believe that even if we fail today, the future we fight for will follow swiftly. I bear no ill will towards those against us. We are merely fighting for the future we personally see in our country. Very different futures, I admit, but the beliefs that binds us to those futures are one and the same. So if we lose, remember that, please. Remember us as people fighting for what we believed was right. Remember us as people, not as enemies. Merci.

-Combeferre

\---

Cher Enjolras,

Mon ami. I know you are afraid, though you will not admit it. You are afraid of what you are leading us towards. I would be concerned if you weren’t afraid. Fear is a strength we must rely on at this point. You have led us the best you could, and I could not be prouder to follow you. You have the strength to fight when nobody else will, and I will always admire that strength. When I left home to further my education in Paris, I would never have expected to be as lucky as meeting you. Do not second guess your decision, mon ami. You know as well as I that the future we have so carefully planned is very close at hand. It may not happen tonight, or tomorrow, or even within our lifetime, but we both went into this knowing the risk.

If any more of us - any of us who follow you - should die in the coming days, you cannot blame yourself. I know you will, regardless of what I say, but everyone here chose to be here as surely as you did. Every person here knows that their life is at risk, and not a one blames you for putting it there. This is not meant to be a war, but I’m afraid it may become one. You are not cut out for war, mon ami. You are meant for leading and spreading the passion and fire you have within you. I’m sorry that we are at this point. I’m sorry we have already lost lives, but those who died chose to be here with you. Their life was theirs to give, and it pains me to see them lay it down, but they have every right to do so.

We speak of freedom, mon ami. The freedom so many in Paris are not given. Do not lose sight of that. Do not lose hope, mon ami. And do not worry. As decided as you are about your own fate, the rest of us have made peace with it as well. And we still have chances we haven’t considered. France may rise and we may win tomorrow. I want to thank you for giving us that hope, for inspiring me everyday.  You are my best friend, Enjolras. Tomorrow we fight as brothers in arms. Tomorrow we meet our fates with grace and dignity, and I must have you know that though you may have brought us here, I believe I write for every man here when I say that not a one of us would change our decision to fight.

If you survive and I don’t, don’t lose hope, Enjolras. The future is waiting for you to herald it forth. I cannot imagine a better man to do so. I would follow you into the darkest night, mon ami. No matter what happens, there is an end to the suffering you have fought so hard against. The only difference is whether we are alive to see it. Even if we aren’t, you have brought that change forth. There is no one I would rather fight beside.

To Mme. and M. Enjolras, if your son does not make it out: The young man I have come to love as a brother may not be the one you expected your son to become. Hold tight to who he is. He is brilliant and fierce and passionate and a leader France could be proud of. Do not let what he is fighting for blind you to your son’s brilliance. You do not have to fight for the same cause, but remember my friend for who he is, not who you wished he could be. He is someone to be proud of.

\---

Cher Courfeyrac,

This is, without a doubt, the hardest letter for me to write. There is too much to say and I’m not confident that you know all of it. You are truly the heart of our cause, the centre, what keeps us going. You, of all people, I think, do not deserve to know such violence and bloodshed. We have shared a lot, mon ami. I could never have imagined finding such close friends as you and Enjolras and it pains me to write these letters as though I am saying goodbye. What I don’t think you realize is that you, because of your innate empathy and sensitivity, are the strongest among us. If anything goes wrong tomorrow or the day after, I am confident that you can push through. There is no world where I see you dying. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Have you ever considered how far we’ve come, mon ami? Several years ago this was all a distant dream. We were more innocent then. How have you managed to maintain that joviality? Our friends look up to you. I look up to you. You are truly the reason so many of us are here, fighting for our freedom. Enjolras may lead us, but you keep us together. In this, the darkest of times, I fail to understand how you can still be a beacon of light. How you can maintain your good humor yet steady persistence, even here. I’m glad of it.

From the very first moment I saw you across the lecture hall, I knew what kind of a person you are. You are not someone I would have chosen to befriend back home, but I would not go back on that friendship for anything. I am glad I am here with you know, fighting for our lives. As I told Enjolras, I could not choose a better group of friends to fight besides. People are drawn to you, Courfeyrac. Hold on to that, because it is a strength that is difficult to wield, yet you do it seamlessly.

I sincerely hope you never have to read this letter. I hope your sisters will never hold it in their hands because you didn’t make it out. I want to have as much optimism as you do, mon ami, but I can tell that even you are afraid for what lies ahead for us. I will tell you the one thing you have taught me time and time again: do not lose hope, mon ami. Do not lose yourself to this fight. I fear that if you lose yourself, we will all be lost. Our fates will have already been decided by the time anyone will read this, although I’m a firm believer that we shape our own fates. Do not fear, mon ami. If you are left alone or semi-alone after this passes, do not be afraid. You will make it through. Remember your brothers, but keep fighting.

Before I sign off, there is one thing that has not been said. I must admit that I am terribly clumsy in matters of the heart. There is a reason people turn to you or Jehan when they need advice in this area, and a reason I am often the last to know about any new developments relationship-wise. But before we go, I must say this. It’s something I should have said long before now, but that I kept to myself not out of fear, but out of uncertainty. This is not the ideal chance to do it, but it is the last I have. If we both make it out of this alive, I vow to tell you in person. But if I do not… the love of a dead man is a heavy burden to carry, and I’m sorry for that. But Courfeyrac, I want you to know that I am in love with you. Those are hard words to write. I do not expect you to reciprocate, but I cannot face dying without having that out there.

To Adele, Margot, and Camille Courfeyrac, if you hold this letter in your hands, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that such a brilliant presence as your brother was stolen from the world. I’m sorry you have to face this. You know the sort of man your brother is. I believe he would tell you to keep living and do not let mourning keep you from your life. Remember him well, though I have no doubt you will do so.

\---

Cher Joly, 

The irony of two healers at a barricade surrounded by death is not lost on me. I only wish we were more prepared to deal with it, more prepared to heal those who are fatally wounded. But there is no miracle cure and we cannot blame ourselves for the deaths of our friends. That is a hard pill to swallow, I know. Jolllly, where would we be without you? Although sometimes I fear you worry enough for all of us, you are perhaps the most dedicated, caring friend among us. Mon ami, you have done so much and have made yourself a place in this little family we created at the Musain.

We set out on the same path a long time ago. You’ve been there for me through the latest nights, the earliest mornings, and the most difficult lessons. I believe we have learned as much from each other as we have from the books and the lectures and the demonstrations. You still have much to teach to the world, Joly. You still have much to learn from the lessons, you still need to become a doctor and spread your patience and your kindness to everyone you can. You still have a life to lead, mon ami, and I cannot express my regret that your story may end here. But you chose to be here, just like the rest of us, and I cannot fault you that. I am proud to fight by your side.

I have already seen you fight bravely and honorably. I have seen you tend to the wounded and you have already saved so many lives. In a roundabout way, I believe you have saved all of ours. Certainly mine, and Bossuet’s, and Musichetta’s. You have taught us all many lessons that I’m not certain you realize you’ve taught. Your bravery is understated yet unparalleled. Your hands are gentle and caring and if this goes wrong, I will miss the laughter behind your eyes even when you are worried. I will miss the late nights debating anatomy, or treatment, or revolutionary plans, or even topics that are extraordinarily far from what we had meant to talk about.

I wish happiness for you, mon ami. I wish for you and Bossuet and Musichetta to make it through this and find your places in the society we hope to build. I wish for you to go on and tell our stories to your patients. I wish for you to foster the new era we all dream of. I am afraid it won’t happen, I admit. I’m afraid the moment we decided to succumb to violence our chances were very slim. But I am still optimistic. I am confident that the future will follow, even if it is after we are long dead.  You share my distaste for violence, and I am confident that at least one of us will live to see peace. I certainly hope at least one of us will.

If you are reading this, I am dead. I’m sorry about that, mon ami. But if you are reading this, it means you survived and have a chance at making a life for yourself again. And while I hope you never have to read this, it brings me hope to think that one day you might. Do not forget, mon ami. Do not forget the late nights. Do not forget that your laughter saves people nearly as much as your medicine. Do not forget everything you brought to our lives, the way you made us better.

Musichetta, if you are reading this, I cannot even begin to imagine the grief you are feeling. I am thankful for everything you gave to us, every moment of support. I am sorry you could not fight with Joly and the rest of us. I know you have the strength to keep going, to keep Joly’s life, his memory, his smile alive. I’m sorry.

\---

Cher Bossuet,

For someone who boasts such unluckiness, you have surely made our group one of the luckiest groups in existence. You somehow manage to maintain a good humor despite the world constantly casting blows at you. I am not certain how you manage it, though I must say we would not be the same without it. You have brought us the good fortune of knowing you and of sharing your companionship. You bring laughter and light into the Musain every time you enter, but your steadfast devotion to our cause is always there underneath. I admire everything you do, Bossuet. Your name, L’Aigle, is not unearned. You are as brave as the eagle you are named for, and I believe you secure in all of us some of that bravery.

Going forth will be difficult, I think. You see the possibilities as clearly as I do. You know how poorly this may end, yet you stand up and fight anyway. I’m not certain how you manage to do that everyday - to see the possible outcomes and fight anyway. Many of us are entirely too idealistic, and others succumb to cynicism, but how you manage to maintain that balance is awe-inspiring, mon ami.

I admit that I have never spent much time with you outside of Joly or Grantaire’s company, so I cannot speak to your traits in a personal setting, but I am inclined to believe that you are as genuine one on one as you are in every group setting we’ve been a part of. We are all practiced in putting up fronts - many of us come from affluent families that required such masks, but you are unique in that you never seem to need to use a front. Keep that with you, if you are reading this. I hope you will be able to maintain your jovial good humor even when some of us are gone. I wish that you have an easy time moving on, though it is terrible to contemplate, even now.

I thank you for everything you have given to this cause. I thank you for every moment of brevity and laughter. I thank you for your steadfast persistence. I wish we were able to continue our friendship beyond the setting of the Musain. Who knows. Maybe you won’t need to read this letter and we will be able to. It’s hard to imagine the future now, as grim as that sounds. I speak from a place of privilege when I say that for most of my life, my future has been certain. You have not been that lucky, I know. I admire your persistence even more now that so much uncertainty hangs heavy in my own future. In all of our futures. Whatever happens, mon ami, I bid you well. I hope you end up happy. I hope you have a future you can be sure of.

Musichetta, again, if you are reading this, I cannot even begin to express my sympathy. I’m not certain whether you will only have one of these to read, or two, or none, but whatever the number I am sorry. You are brave in a way none of us will have to be. I thank you for your compassion and your love and your support, even to those who were strangers mere weeks ago. I hope you are able to find the light again, especially if you must read two of these. Especially if you must read more. If you are the last one left. I’m sorry.

\---

Cher Bahorel,

There was so much to say, and you were taken from us first. I am still stricken by the fact that you are really gone, that you will never get the chance to read these words. You always seemed the strongest among us, the one who would last the longest, and the fact that you were one of the first gone… the thought is insupportable. I cannot imagine a world where you were not part of our cause. I cannot imagine a world where we did not have your steady courage behind us. You believed so wholeheartedly, mon ami. You believed until your last breath, and I believe that is what hurts the most for me. I always thought you would always be here.

I have faced death before, mon ami. I have had people die at my hands because the more trained doctors weren’t able to do anything, so they called in the only backup they had. I have been unable to save people in the streets who did not have enough money for treatment. I have seen people die in particularly bad bar fights, but never anyone I was close to. I never had the good fortune to spend evenings alone with you. I regret that, now. I wish we had shared a drink after a meeting. I wish I had the chance to know you more than just at the Musain.

I think I am still trying to convince myself that you are gone. I keep turning and expecting to hear your voice, hear your laughter, see your constant, steady strength. You were the toughest among us, Bahorel, and your passion and belief was unbeatable. You believed so much in what we were fighting for. I know I’ve said that before, but I seem to be fixating on that. I knew this path would lead to the death of some, but seeing people _die_ for this cause that we’ve been championing for so long is like a slap in the face. I wish it had not come to this. I do not know what I believe, now. I believe in the future, still. I believe because how can I _not,_ when people have lain down their life for it? I do not know what happened to you. I do not know if you are still with us, if your life just _ended,_ but I am certain that although many of us will join you in the coming days, something good will come of this.

You were never one to shy away from a fight, Bahorel. I recall many times shaking my head as I stitched up a wound you got because someone insulted the honor of one of our friends. I recall warning you against fights, but I never could warn you against this one. It would have been hypocritical, I know. Behind all of my scowls and curses as I staunched the bleeding of your cuts and even relocated your shoulder once, I admired your ability to stand up and fight for the cause you believed in. I have never seen anyone believe as firmly as you always did. You never seemed capable of _not_ believing. I will carry that with me in the coming days. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of belief strong enough to fight for it. I’m sorry it ended this way for you, mon ami.

Rest peacefully now, mon ami. You gave your life, the most you could give. We will fight in your honor. We will continue on your belief. We will bring about the future you saw so clearly. It may not happen in our lifetime, but I promise you that your death will not be for nothing. In some way, we will succeed. I promise. To you and to myself.

To M. and Mme. Bahorel, I cannot express my condolences. Your son was a hearty young man and it was my honor to fight beside him. I hope this letter finds its way to you eventually. I hope you understand the cause that your son died for, and I hope you can honor your son in the way he deserves to be honored.

\---

Cher Jehan, 

Our poet. Our romanticist. You saw the beauty in things the rest of us couldn’t. Your death was the bravest thing I have ever seen. You were right. Vive la France. Long live France. Long live the future. The future that you will never be able to see, the peace that will blossom up out of this violence like the flowers you so often wore in your hair. I still don’t know where you found those. I think I rather like it as a secret. You inspired us to see the future where most of us were blinded by the present misfortune. You were perhaps the most idealistic, but maybe you were also the only one who saw the future for all it could be. I will miss you more than I can say. You, of all people, did not deserve to die like this. Your words inspired us in ways that I can only just begin to comprehend. If there is one thing I can do, I will make sure the world sees your poems, though you deserve far more than that, mon ami.

You were truly our light in the dark. You faced the darkness of the world, you saw it for what it was, and you stood steady. You created beauty out of nothing. No, perhaps that’s not it. Perhaps you saw the beauty in the face of nothing. Perhaps you just brought it into the light. Only the most talented are capable of that, I believe. I refuse to believe that you died for nothing. I refuse to let that happen. I… I am having a hard time believing that you are dead. You seemed like a person out of time, I don’t suppose I ever considered that you wouldn’t outlast us all. But you might yet. Your words might. I hope they do.

It takes a special kind of strength to stare into darkness and find beauty, and I don’t think any of us have that same strength. You serve as an inspiration and a beacon for us all. The future will come soon, mon ami. I know it. You have helped me see that. You have helped all of us see that. I wish you knew how somber the barricade is without your light. I wish you knew just how much you mean to us all, just how panicked we were when we realized you were no longer with us. I wish you knew just how much I wish I could burn those gunshots from my memory. 

I will not pass by a garden without thinking of you. I will not read poetry without hearing your soft voice in my head. I will not move on without remembering what’s past. I will not forget the songs you sang when you thought you were alone in the Musain. I will not forget the notes you left each of us, poems of your own creation, when you feared we were having a bad day or losing hope. I hope you know just how much you meant to us. You believed more firmly in something _after_ than I did… than I do, and I hope with all of my heart that you are not disappointed in the _after._ You have given us all strength and hope and inspiration. We will continue to fight for the future that you died for. Not all of us will make it. But I promise you, Jehan, that we will make it happen. The future will rise out of our ashes like the sun rises in the morning. It is a definite, not a possibility. You died believing that. I hope, my dear friend, that I will see you again in a world beyond this. I do not know if I will, I do not know if that’s possible, but I hope.

If I make it through, I will make sure your grave never goes without flowers. I will make sure that other people are encouraged to see the beauty you brought to all of us. Thank you, Jehan.

To M. and Mme. Prouvaire, please make sure your son’s poetry is shared. I could not imagine a world without it. I know he wrote you a letter before he left for the barricade. Please hold on to that. It expresses so much more than my writing ever could.

\---

Cher Feuilly,

Feuilly. You were the most engaged in our cause because you had experienced the most of it. I cannot shake the feeling that if you are reading this, we have failed. We have failed to protect the people you care most about protecting, and the weight of that is truly crushing. I do, however, firmly believe that we will bring about a future in which those people are protected. I just fear we won’t live to see it. Your steady determination and quiet experience has been a guiding force unrivaled by anything else. I can understand why Enjolras regards you with such respect: you truly are deserving of it. I only wish all of France were infected with such passion, patience, and understanding as you seem to have. You are the hardest worker of all of us, and the ideas you’ve supplied have been invaluable. You are a wise friend to have, and without your guidance we would not be where we are today.

We are facing a force that is stronger than we anticipated, but I do not doubt you knew from the beginning just what we were up against, and you did as much as you could to prepare us for it. You are honorable and loyal, mon ami. If anyone can shape the future we have planned, the future we are fighting for, it is you. You alone see enough to plan for after the barricade. As much as we have planned thus far, as much as we can picture the ideal future, none of us have the power to see it through without you. That is the gift you have given us.

You are truly the future we fight for, Feuilly, and I cannot imagine reaching it without you. I do not understand how you do so much. How you managed to work so many small jobs while still attending meetings, how you have managed to help us get so far. You are truly admirable. Thank you for everything you do, mon ami. Thank you for the quiet nights when everyone else had gone home and it was just you, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and I bent over plans, you pointing out the flaws in our idealistic views while still helping us see the future that we were somewhat uncertain about. Nobody could say that you are idealistic, just a man of the future. Your ideas are all so plausible, I’m sorry if we are unable to make them happen.

Despite the seriousness you are able to employ in times of need, it is not the only thing I want you to hold on to. You have an amazing, uncrushed sense of hope. You are able to continue to smile, even when exhausted and burdened. That smile will stay with me, Feuilly. It gives me hope even now, as I write this. You are smiling at Joly right now, sharing some wine and a joke. Even after everything. After Bahorel, after facing death like I have never seen.

You have an outstanding moral compass, and I hate to see that thrown away by the world. Thank you for the possibilities you’ve shown me, for what you continue to believe in, for your ability to smile despite the world’s pain, I cannot express how much I wish there were more people out there who knew you well enough to appreciate what has brought you here. It will be an honor to continue fighting by your side, and, if it comes to it, it will be an honor to die together as brothers.

\---

Cher Grantaire, 

R, I do not believe that you don’t believe in anything. If that were the case you would have stopped showing up to meetings long ago. I don’t know whether you believe in our cause, I don’t know if you would fight so hard if we had a different man to lead us into this battle, but I’m glad of your companionship. I am glad to be fighting by your side, even if you are not as firm in your belief as the rest of us. Your addition to our group has been integral in finding our way to this day, in making it as far as we have.

I cannot say I was surprised to find you at the barricade. I knew you would fight, even if it was not for the same reasons. Yet I am proud to see you here. You do not need my pride, I know that. We are not particularly close friends, but every day I saw you at the Musain strengthened my respect for you, even when you were being blatantly difficult. I do not pretend to understand your motives or your reasoning, but nonetheless I am proud to call you a brother and a friend.

I sincerely hope you make it through this. I hope that this ends better than I expect at this point, and that you find your way in life. I hope you and Enjolras both survive, though I know that’s unlikely. Enjolras would not be content with surviving knowing many of his friends are gone, and secretly I believe you feel the same way. Despite your many arguments and protests, despite the holes you poke in our plans (which never fail to make it better, I might add), you are a member of Les Amis as surely as everyone else here. I thank you for the companionship you’ve given us, and I thank you for every flaw you’ve found in our plans. We would not have made it this far without you.

Belief does not come as easily to you as it does to the rest of us, I know that. But belief brought you here as surely as it did any of us. I hope you are able to hold on to that.

Mme. Grantaire, if you are reading this, your son did not make it past the barricades. I hope you can find it in yourself to be proud of him and to give him the send-off he deserves. If he is no longer here, know that he died loving and believing, and I doubt there is a worthier cause.

\---

Cher Éponine, 

I will admit that I did not know you well before you passed on. I apologize for that. I often saw you around the Musain when Marius was around, and for a while I believed you were the young lady he was so in love with. I am sorry that you were not. I am sorry that you gave your life on this barricade because you were protecting someone you loved. I wish I could have known you better, I wish you were still around to experience the possibilities we are trying to open up. I have no way of knowing if you believed in our cause, but you died with extraordinary bravery and resolve.

I know little of your life. What I know I know from Grantaire and Marius, and from what I can tell it was not the easiest, yet you found a way to love and protect even despite the family that I have heard much about. Despite the family that did not show you the love you deserved. Your courage fuels all of our courage, and we will continue to fight. We will make your death mean something. We will not let it be for nothing. I promise.

Azelma, if you hold this letter, I hope you are able to take inspiration from your sister. I hope you are able to find more than the life you were thrown into. I hope you will make it out and find happiness on the other side. I will try to meet you, if I make it out of this. I’m very sorry about your sister. I know she wanted more for the both of you. I wish you the best of luck.

\---

Cher Gavroche,

I am firmly of the belief that you are too young to be fighting here, but this is your own life, your own rights, and your own future, therefore I cannot begrudge you the choice to fight. If anyone deserves to make it out of this alive, it is you. You have the most ahead of you, and you’ve already proven yourself entirely capable and independent. You can encourage so much change, so much that you can’t even begin to imagine it right now. I look at you right now, while I’m writing this, and I see you attempting to raise the moral of my friends. Of the people here fighting. Of the people who are scared they are going to die. You are fearless, mon ami, and that is what scares me the most. 

Your fearlessness is something to be admired, don’t get me wrong. It has gotten us here. Your tenacity, your courage, your loyalty are all things we could not do without, but I am afraid it will cause you to be reckless. I am afraid that you may die, and it will be on our hands. I beg of you to save that fighting spirit for the world that you get to build. The world that will be passed on into the hands of your generation as soon as ours has given it our best shot. We are fighting for the future, Gavroche. We are fighting for you.

My heart aches when I see how much my friends care for you. I swell with pride when I see you bravely fighting amongst the people who care about you most. You live your life in a world that I will never experience, and therefore you are growing into a young man who is very different than I will ever be. I just hope you are allowed to keep growing. I hope this young man is allowed to be the new face of change, allowed to lead the future even more effectively and wisely than Enjolras. You remember taking to the streets two years ago, I am sure. We succeeded then because we were joined by France, and I only hope we will share that taste of success again here.

This barricade is smaller than the ones we built then. This group is more tightly knit, but also far outnumbered. We may not make it through the night, and what scares me is that you realize that, but you don’t care. You are encouraging us at this very moment, and I don’t want to see you die because of it. You are the young citizen we care so much about. You are what we fight for. If we lose you, then we are well and truly lost. 

If you are reading this, it means you survive. It means you make it through and you will be able to shape this future. Know that all of us are standing behind you, watching with pride as you grow and take our place. As you lead your generation to the places we could not even begin to fathom. I have so much faith in what you are capable of, Gavroche. Mon petit ami, you are loved more than you probably even know. Keep going. Don’t lose hope. Tell our stories. Inspire people like you have inspired us.

Azelma, I dread writing this portion, because it considers the possibility that Gavroche does not make it through. I do not know your family dynamic well enough to tell if you know much about Gavroche, but he is fierce and mighty and loyal and he does not deserve to die so young. Take up his torch, please. Fight for the future of your generation. Do what we cannot. Please.

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Cher Marius, 

I believe the first time I met you was when you were expressing your profound interest in Napoleon and finished it up with a very poorly thought out question: what could be better than that? My answer still remains the same. To be free. I believe that now you may be inclined to believe me. I hope you have grown as much as you have helped us grow. I am grateful to be fighting alongside you, and I am grateful for your continued presence at the Musain, even though you often amused yourself with love and other ideas Enjolras may have scorned you for. You may be the most idealistic among us, and I wish to preserve that for you. I hope that you make it through this battle, and that you are able to find Cosette again and live happily in the future you helped create. I hope you live long enough to see France change. You are the most recent addition to our cause, and yet I can confidently say you believe in it just as much as any one of us. I had doubts about you at first, but I am glad to say you have proven me wrong.

When you showed up earlier this evening and saved Gavroche’s life, I was grateful for you. I may not have agreed with your threat to destroy us all when we were threatened - I still can’t quite shake the anger I feel when I think of that possibility - but we need you here. We need every man we can get, and your presence is as much appreciated as it was originally unexpected. My biggest fault is that I keep underestimating you, Marius. You might just make it through this, as odd as that seems. I hope you do. 

As proud as you are of your father, I hope you are able to teach your children to be proud of you and the men you fought with. It is not my place to tell you how to raise any future children you may have, but I hope they understand the importance of the cause you participated in during your youth. I hope some of us survive long enough to meet your future children, to tell them the stories of what France used to be like before we fought for change. We are making history right now, Marius. Your decision to join us furthers our chances here. We may have had disputes in the past, I may not have agreed with your decision to follow love instead of our cause, but I am proud to have you beside me. I am proud of the group of us fighting on the barricade tonight. I see you writing a letter right now. I hope it is to someone who will be able to tell your story should you not make it out. I hope you tell her - Cosette, I’m assuming - everything you feel in this moment.

If you survive the barricade and I don’t, please read this and consider it. Please accept this as an apology for my attitude towards your life outside of the revolution. But please consider the differences between us and why those occured. Please continue to grow like I’ve seen you grow just in these past few months. I believe in you, Marius. I believe in your ideals, in your fortitude, in your sensitive heart. That is a unique strength, mon ami. Take care of it.

Cosette, if Marius does not make it out, this letter will be going to you. I do not believe Marius’ grandfather would be happy to receive such a letter. Tell Marius’ story. Remember that he had the courage to love when the world was ending. Remember that he had strength and boldness. Remember what he was fighting for. Honor him well. Honor us all. Merci.


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